


Don't touch anything in the library

by Nilozot



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Claire POV, F/M, First Time, Fuck Or Die, Humor, Kink Meme, Loss of Virginity, Memories of Stanford, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 05:14:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4948021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nilozot/pseuds/Nilozot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claire is hit by a virgin-targeting magic spell, and picks Sam to bail her out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't touch anything in the library

**Author's Note:**

> http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/97375.html?thread=37690207#t37690207
> 
> Prompt:  
> Claire, Sam, Dean and Cas are all in the Bunker. Some kind of spell gone wrong means Claire has to lose her virginity within twenty four hours or she'll die, and to top it off she has to do it with the other person in that was in the room with her (up to filler if it's Sam or Dean). She is very unhappy with the situation but doesn't want to die a grissly death either. Cas responds by being an awesome dad. He knows Dean and Sam are good people who won't hurt her and he knows they will all get through this uncomfortable situation with relationships intact. He aids by being very empathetic, getting supplies (condoms? emergency contraception?) and giving pep talks to everyone. Sam and Dean are kind of weirded out by how calmly he's reacting to the situation and Cas explains that he doesn't see any reason for concern.

“Don't touch anything in the library,” they said. But then they also said: “Comb through every damn book in the library looking for that fucking symbol that could turn Dean into a slaughtering madman at any moment.” Okay, maybe not in so many words, but that was the gist. _Oh, Claire, you want to be a hunter? Forget spells and fistfights, it's all about the books, baby!_

So here they were, the four of them, studying like college students with finals looming over them. She was supposed to go to this Jody-person's house, but had begged off for a few days on the possibly misbegotten assumption that the Bunker would be more fun. Hence, the library. Castiel, her blundering enthusiastic not-father, even gave her a magnifying glass so she could ruin her eyesight squinting at the borders and backgrounds of reprinted medieval woodcarvings. Thanks, Dad.

So here she was, Claire Novak, officially an adult and an orphan all in the same week, sitting in a dusty corridor off to one side of the telescope. This seemed to be the place where the Sam and Dean had dumped stuff acquired from their dead hunter friends, for it was far less organized than the main room, and filled with grimy locked boxes and disintegrating leather manuscripts with horrifying monster covers. The boxes, she was told, really shouldn't be handled, for most of the contents were _in_ boxes in the first place to control magic of one sort or another. Pfft, how dangerous could an old box be? She would just have a look.

One item, sitting on a shelf in a glass case above most of the books, especially intrigued her. The whole box seemed to be covered with tiny bas reliefs of people engaged in the most obscene sexual acts. Who wouldn't want to get a good look at _that,_ especially if they have a magnifying glass? So she carefully lifted off the case and pulled the box down into her lap. The thing wasn't even locked.

The book inside seemed benign, and its pictures were fascinating. The tome appeared to be some Arabic version of the Kama Sutra, based on the flowy script, or maybe just some ancient geezer's exotic porn stash. One page, right in the middle, didn't even have naked people on it. Just a swirly geometric pattern, mesmerizing for some reason. Claire caressed the page, running her fingers along the parallel lines dizzyingly scribbled on the page.

And then her hand wouldn't move.

It seemed to be _stuck_ inside the page somehow, her entire hand up to the wrist engulfed. Naturally she began to panic, because who wouldn't when their hand has been eaten by an evil magic book? “Hey! Castiel! Help me! I'm stuck! Dean, Sam, heeeeeeeelp...”

Ever helpful, the trio ran up to her. Dean reached out to yank her hand out of the book, but Castiel held him back. “Wait. Stop. Do not touch her,” he warned. He and Sam peered over the book, trying to decipher the scribblings without contaminating themselves with her touch.

“It's titled 'Whore's Curse',” Castiel read out loud bluntly. God, would that guy _ever_ learn tact? “It says, _whichever woman has not been touched by a man, must touch the first man to touch her, lest she die.”_

“Goddamn magic riddles,” said Dean. “I hate these spells.”

“Not much of a riddle,” Sam put in, still examining at the book. He used a small knife to lift the back pages without direct contact, to get a look at the porn-tastic drawings earlier on. “Look, the volume's all about sex, right? Love potions, aphrodisiac spells, stuff like that. So _touch_ is probably a euphemism for sex.”

“So, _whichever woman has not had sex must have sex with the first man to have sex with her?_ Little bit circular, don't you think?” said Dean.

“The last “touch” is probably literal. Whoever touches her will release her from the book, but then she has to, um, have sex with him.”

“Oh, so it's a magical roofie for virgins. The middle ages, gotta love 'em.” Dean paused, then stared at Claire. “Wait, so doesn't that mean...”

Sam kicked him on the shin. Claire would have kicked both of them in the balls if she could. “What, just because I've been living on the streets, must mean I open my legs for anyone, right?” she said sarcastically. “Try to hold back your surprise.”

“I, for one, respect Claire's decision to wait for someone she cares about,” intoned Castiel, and Claire and Dean both rolled their eyes.

“I don't know if someone who was a waiting virgin for thousands of years should be talking,” shot back Dean.

Castiel frowned in that eyebrow-furrowed manner that indicated calm befuddlement. “Angels have no need for procreation, Dean. Why should I...”

As the two of them bantered back and forth, and Sam ignored them while bending over the book, a curious sensation crept up from her tailbone up her back. The top of Sam's head was right in front of her, craned over from his towering heights to get a look at the book, and he had tiny little hairs on the back of his neck, soft, like they should be stroked. _That_ was a weird thought, so she looked up at Cas and Dean. Castiel was frowning, worried about her despite his shattering incompetence to express that in any meaningful way, while Dean was doing that thing where he got ever more vicious and sarcastic to cover up his own anxiety. Really, Dean did have neat-colored eyes, and by old-dude standards had that movie-star-pretty bad boy scruffy look that was very...

Oh God. Oh, _God._

“Guys?” Claire huffed, her breathing coming in gaspy little moans now. “I think … I think I have to do something, like, now.” She couldn't help squirming in her seat, which made the damnable thing move and Sam jump out of the way. Well fuck him, _he_ wasn't a virgin that would have his arm eaten by that piranha page.

“Is there, uh, anyone we can call that you might want to, um, help you out?” Sam asked. Articulate, that one, Claire thought she heard he went to Harvard or something.

“Well, let's see, there's Brandon Harris, he generously sent me a dick pic with the suggestion I might do him the honor of sucking it? Or that Jake guy, who grabbed me and kissed me in a bar once. Or, you know, _Randy.”_ She spit that one out at Dean, who at least had the decency to look guilty. “So no, no one. Except you guys.”

Who, honestly, were looking better and better all the time. Not Castiel – even in her current state, the thought made her want to throw up a little – but Sam and Dean were both kind of hot, when she stepped back to think about it. And they couldn't possibly be that inexperienced, which had to be a plus when losing your virginity, right?

Cas must have been entertaining similar thoughts, for he said, “Arranged marriage and planned first intercourse is common in human cultures. It's obviously something that can be adapted to.”

“No no no,” interrupted Dean. “Just hang on, Claire, will find something that can reverse this mojo. There must be a spell, some anti-magic shit we can dump on the book, something.”

Claire leaned forward against the table, desperate to rub one out. It was almost painful how much she needed something; it wouldn't be _that_ rude if she took her free hand and jabbed it down her pants? Indecent maybe, but not rude. The arousal was spreading from her groin up to her chest, and she wouldn't say no if someone licked anywhere in between.

She glanced over the two hunters before her, and tried to rationally consider her options. Dean seemed like he knew his way around a girl or two, but every time she looked at him she could only picture him covered in blood, breathing heavily like a successful predator. Dean could be a nice guy when he was in control, but there was no telling if he could stay in control once that _thing_ took over. And who the fuck knew if sex triggered it? They don't call it bloodlust for nothing.

Sam, on the other hand, while he could kick ass when he needed to, seemed so much more … calm. Okay, maybe that was just another way of saying “broken,” but at that moment, Claire couldn't give three fucks about Sam's old demons if he could get relieve this _need_ and get her off in a non-rapey way.

“There are multiple spells that can contain magical energy,” Castiel was saying. “Unfortunately they all require any currently activated spells to be dissipated, for the victim to remain unharmed. We really could use a witch,” he added helpfully.

Dean made a strangled noise with his throat. “Forget it, Cas, I'm not letting a witch in to see our nice tempting candy store of dark magic. We'll do it ourselves. Maybe you should sit down and sit tight, Claire, while we do some research here...”

“ _Fuck_ research,” Claire blurted out. What did they think got her into this mess in the first place? Plus she was sick, _so_ sick of other people talking about her as if she wasn't standing right there, perfectly capable of making intelligent decisions for herself. “I'm picking one of you. I want it to be someone I know. Sam, I pick Sam.”

The Winchesters exchanged glances, of the “are we really doing this?” variety. Claire gritted her teeth and ineffectively clamped her legs together. “Don't just jump at the opportunity,” she added into the awkward silence. Oh God, what if he didn't want to do it? What if he was utterly repulsed by her? Maybe death-by-virginity wasn't such a terrible way to go. She could sink into the floor right now and die, thank you very much.

And then Cas, of all people, cut through the weirdness. “I think we should honor Claire to make the decision for herself. It's her body, after all.”

Claire spared him a look of pure gratitude, through her desperation. Leave it to the angel to be a stickler for _asking vague permission_ before riding a body to hell knows where _._ “See, listen to Dad. I'm not getting myself off here. _Please._ ” Something that would be rectified in the very near future if they didn't act, goddammit. She found herself looking around for objects within arm's reach that could kinda sorta be used as a dildo. Except they were all crazy magical artifacts, so there was a terrible idea. _Fuck_ the library. Or not. Or...

“I just want to make sure you're in the right, uh, frame of mind to make a decision,” Sam said. He voiced the words so gently, in fact, that Claire was instantly sure she had made the right choice. Somebody nice, who wasn't ugly, and who knew what he was doing, or at least could fake it enough for the horny virgin. She wasn't asking for much, here.

“If it were you, when you were eighteen,” Claire asked him, “you think the adults would stand around dickering about whether you really and truly wanted to get laid? I really and truly _need_ to get laid here, guys. Please. Just. Somebody.” She broke off, panting, and collapsed her upper body forward onto the book on the desk, not caring if her head got stuck in it with her hand. Claire blindly reached out her free hand behind her, in Sam's general direction, waiting for him to make up his mind.

“Girl's got a point,” she heard Dean say quietly. Probably more meaningful glances were exchanged, for there was a long pause. God, it was surprising those two needed to talk at all, like they were psychic twins or something. And then she felt soft fingers graze her own.

Instantly, the book repelled her hand, practically thrusting her off the table. The sensation of lust only intensified, though. She spun around to stare at Sam, still holding his hand. He had pretty eyes too, she noted. Claire wanted all at once to jump him, right there without preliminaries, but also awkwardly wondered what exactly to do next. Sam didn't look horrified at the prospect, at least. Just… hesitant.

“What do you require now, Claire? Sam?” Cas's gravelly voice rang out, weirdly like and not like her real Dad's voice, and she jumped. Those other two were still there? Inconvenient. “Pregnancy prevention? Romantic embellishments? Visual sexual stimuli?”

“Did you just ask if we needed porn?” Sam asked. “Think I've got this, Cas, but thanks.”

“Condoms?” Dean said. “Got some in my room.” Claire half-expected it to sound like a joke coming from him, but no, he had quieted down. She hoped Dean wasn't pissed or anything that she hadn't chosen him. Surely he got it.

“The spell may require ejaculation, not just penetration, as the definition of intercourse,” Castiel intoned. Sam's eyes bugged out at Cas's bluntness, and Claire inwardly groaned. Cum, ugh right, she'd seen porn and knew what it was, of course. But still: Ewww. Guys were probably used to the grossness coming out of their bodies, but she sure as hell wasn't. Good thing her period was done, cause that would bring a whole new level of embarrassing bodily fluids.

“However,” Cas continued, “the sorcerer who created the spell likely did not anticipate post-coital hormonal birth control. I will acquire some.”

Good, give him a distracting project. Sam must have been thinking the same thing, for he said, “Yeah, why don't you go do that, Cas?” Then Sam looked at him and squinted and said, “I promise I won't hurt her, okay? You don't have to worry.”

“Shouldn't you be saying that to me?” muttered Claire. Oh, sure, be concerned about Castiel's oh-so-delicate parental sensibilities.

Sam gave her an adorable dimpled smile – Claire couldn't tell whether it was genuine or him psyching himself up for the task, not that it mattered to her overactive loins – and leaned over to murmur in her ear. “I promise not to hurt you. Whatever you want to do.” She shivered at the breath on her neck.

Castiel refused to let up, though. “You should go very slowly,” he informed Sam. Claire groaned and leaned on Sam, closing her eyes again. “And prepare her very thoroughly for penetration to reduce discomfort. Perhaps with extra artificial lubrication? I can get some of that as well.”

“ _Cas,”_ hissed Sam, holding her up. “I got this, all right? It's not _my_ first time. _”_

“I've seen thousands of human female 'first times,' and anxiety and lack of desire often seem to cause distress...”

Clair's eyes snapped open, unable to take the bickering. This was ridiculous, her clit was beginning to _hurt._ “I've got desire. In hocus-pocus spades. And my anxiety would be less if you just left us alone.”

Dean pulled Cas away, to her relief. “Come on, Cas, let's leave these two lovebirds alone. You go on a supply run, I'll, uh, hold down the fort in case they need anything.” He shot Sam one last high-eyebrow accusatory look, as if to say, _you'd really better not hurt her, bro, or my knee will meet your dick._ Apparently even with the Mark, Dean could get all protective and fatherly too. Who knew?

Sam led her down the hallway towards the Bunker's personal quarters, apparently heading towards his own room, but Claire stopped outside of hers. Granted she had only occupied this room for two days, but still it was familiar territory, and made her a feel a teensy bit less like a captive war bride being led to the ravishing. Sam was watching her carefully, and went along with her signals.

But once in the room, she had a momentary panic: What _now?_ Lights on or off? Shouldn't she take a shower? Brush her teeth? Shave _…_ something?Do you just take all your clothes off and lie there all naked and embarrassed and vulnerable? Movies made it look so easy; people just tumble into bed and roll around while sucking face.

Sam let go of her hand, which produced a stab of longing and lust and a general urge to grab him back. The spell apparently knew whether they were in contact or not, which seemed extra creepy. He turned on a small side lamp and flipped off the main lights, dimming the room but still made it easy to see. Then he motioned her over to sit on the bed, so they weren't standing around staring at each other like awkward idiots.

“So,” Claire said after a second in which Sam didn't twitch a muscle. What, was she supposed to make the first move? “You ever take anyone's virginity before?” Then she winced, 'cause did that _really_ just come out of her mouth? Kind of late for a job interview.

Sam's mouth cricked into a half-smile. “No,” he said. “Everyone I hooked up with in college was at least a little bit experienced by the time I got to them. And after that...” He shrugged, as if to say, _there are no twenty-something virgins jumping into bed with hunters._ “It gets less likely as you get older.

“What, nothing in high school?” Claire absentmindedly ran her fingers over his face, appraising him. It was hard to imagine he'd been a lonely pimpled geek or something. Sam closed his eyes and let her tentatively explore. She really hadn't touched anyone in ages, not hardly so much as a chaste hug. And even though the spell was urging her to rip his clothes off and go for it, the gravity of touching another person _everywhere_ suddenly seemed overwhelming.

“Not really,” he said softly. “I guess I could have. By the time I was a junior or senior Dean was long done with school, and he and Dad left me all the time to go off on jobs. Empty motel room, teenage boy's wet dream, right? But it was hard to connect with people. Hard to relate to anyone.”

He _had_ been lonely. Claire wondered what had changed. Maybe nothing, in the end. But then another wave of arousal hit her, distracting her from such mundane activities as conversation, and Claire flopped back onto the bed and curled up on her side. “Can you, um, take off your clothes first? I just...”

“Yeah.” Sam peeled off his shirt and jeans, stripping down to his boxers. And _damn_ the boy was well-built under all that flannel. Hunting sure kept them in shape. Claire stared at his chest from her fetal position, practically drooling, but somehow couldn't get her limbs to move or mouth to respond.

Sam slid on top of the bed behind her and, with a little hesitation, began to run his hands along her still-clothed arms. “I can't believe I'm taking sex advice from an angel, but Cas is right. You need to relax. We'll go super slow. Okay if I take off this shirt?”

Claire nodded, even as she thought, _Oh my God, just do it._ But he kind of had a point that somebody who really wanted to be fucked probably wouldn't be tensely knotted up on herself, regardless of the level of cunt-throbbing between the legs. What was wrong with her? Even a damned enchantment couldn't get her to chill the fuck out?

Sam continued to stroke her arms and neck, almost like a feather-light massage. But then he hooked with hands under the bottom of her shirt and gently pulled it off, leaving the bra in place but grazing his fingers over her skin as he peeled up the shirt. The bare touch made her involuntarily moan, and she squirmed back against his chest. The top of her head barely reached his chin, but he shifted down a few inches so they were head to head, his mouth breathing on the back of her neck. Then he whispered, “Try closing your eyes. Just let me know if I do anything you don't like, okay?”

He stopped talking then, and continued to massage her arms and back, slowly working his way around to the front. The touch did relax her, enough that her shoulders drooped down and her muscles loosened. The contact seemed to shoot amazing sensations straight to her clit, so even as her upper body unclenched she began to wriggle and squirm. When Sam brushed her half-braided hair back away from her face and gently kissed the side of her neck, that was the last straw. Claire fumbled with the front on her jeans, and grabbed his hand and stuffed it down her pants. Behind her, she was sure Sam had that dimpled smile again.

Sam's strokes weren't exactly like what she'd do herself, but it was enough. She rutted against his hand, gasping for air. At first he didn't even try to get her pants off or enter her, but then shifted and twitched, as if the angles were all wrong for what he wanted to do. Sam pulled her jeans and ratty underwear down, just enough so that she was exposed, but not so he had to move from his position behind her. For a second Claire was mortified that he might try to go down on her and clamped her legs shut, but he didn't budge his position, and instead gently probed her from behind.

“Touch yourself,” he whispered. “Try to get yourself off, while I...”

Claire finally got it. She kicked the jeans all the way off and moved one leg forward to give him better access, while from the front she sank her fingers down. It was a tiny relief. It would never be enough. She'd been horny before, but it was all focused on a good hard orgasm, not a burning desire to have something shoved into her, a desperation from the _inside._ And when Sam did slowly push something in – fingers, who knew how many – it didn't hurt, it didn't bleed, it didn't even seem stretched. Claire thrust her hips back to get more even as she stroked herself quickly from the front, hoping Sam would oblige her with more. Which he did, and even as she came hard, spasming around with what felt like half a hand inside her, she knew she still wanted to take more.

“Any improvement?” Sam asked her in hushed tones, after her panting slowed down. He leisurely withdrew his fingers and began kissing her neck again. She could feel how hard he was behind her, rubbing through his boxers.

At last she felt comfortable enough to flip around and face him. “More,” Claire whispered, and pulled herself up the bed to kiss him. She hadn't planned on any kissing, for it seemed like a torturously intimate thing to do with some old guy who'd probably just as soon watch paint dry than fuck her. But now that she was dripping over the sheets, and had a real live cock pressing against her, and attached to that cock a real live ripped man who obviously _did_ want her on some level, Claire wanted all of him too. Head to toe, and to hell with infantile cringing and regret.

Sam oomphed a bit in surprise at the sudden turn around, but managed to pick himself up and respond in short order. And holy hell, he was a _phenomenal_ kisser, so there was a good decision for once. They wrapped their arms around each other, with Claire half on top of him and Sam frantically trying to undo her bra at the same time, practically making her come again with the kissing alone.

Finally Sam broke it off long enough to shimmy his undershorts off. _At last,_ Claire thought. Which was soon followed by, _Oh shit really?_

Technically, she'd never seen a grown-up dick in the flesh before, erect or otherwise. On the plus side, it was smaller than porn cock, so there was a small mercy. On the thousand minus side, up close and personal it seemed alarmingly massive to actually fit inside another human being.

“Is that normal sized?” she blurted out. And then immediately dropped her face onto his chest in embarrassed horror.

“Pretty normal, yeah,” Sam said, obviously struggling not to laugh at her crippling naivety. “I guess it is weird if you don't have one. But you took more in fingers just a second ago.”

“I did?”

He reached down and eased three fingers into her, and the fucking fuck curse made her moan and buck again. “Think you're ready,” he murmured. Claire wondered briefly whether the spell was affecting him too, like it was a viral necromancy spreading person to person, before deciding she really didn't give a damn. Hey, he volunteered.

Sam pulled his hand out and guided her back up for more kissing, less frantic this time and more for sensuous distraction. Which worked amazingly well. She was ready, overwhelmingly aching and throbbing and dying of wanton need, and all those other stupid romance euphemisms for _fuck me hard and deep right now._ Really, English needed a nice concise word for that.

He pushed into her with a frustrating slowness, facing her on the side, apparently not too far gone to just start pounding her like she thought she wanted. This time Claire did feel stretched, although again nothing hurt. It wasn't an immediate-orgasm buildup like masturbation was, but it did feel good. She could get why someone would want to do this more than once. Then he began to move, and grasped her hip to pull the top leg over his to get in deeper, and she began to feel the tiny flicks of pleasure adding up.

Sam's breath was jagged as he sped up, quicker than she'd guessed, and then seemed to plateau off at a steady pace. Like he was holding back, waiting for a signal from her. Apparently waiting for her to come, for when she did – the strangest, most intense orgasm she'd ever had, like she was aware of more of her body than ever before – he let out a small cry and increased speed to a frenzy. When he came a few seconds later, she barely noticed, she was so distracted by the amazing sensations still rolling through her.

The spell didn't snap off at once, but as both of their breathing calmed, Claire could tell uncontrolled lust was bleeding out, replaced by a general mist of well-being and happiness. Or maybe that was just the afterglow of hormones, what did she know. She stole a glance over at Sam's face, who had the wide-eyed blinking look of someone waking up from a dream they didn't quite expect to have. Ha, he'd been roofied too.

“You...feel okay?” Sam asked carefully, after a moment. When she nodded, he let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God, I was afraid I got the riddle wrong.”

Claire snorted and waved a dismissive hand. “Second time's a charm.”

This was probably the point where they should get up and face the sure-to-be awkward conversations outside, but it was so _nice_ to lie there next to soft skin and a warm body, maybe they could indulge for a minute. “Can I ask you something?” Claire said.

“Sure.” He seemed disinclined to budge as well, and gently stroked some stray strands of her hair with the arm that wasn't pinned down.

“Can you tell me more about your first time? You know, since we're laying here naked and bonding and all. It sounded like there was kind of a story there.”

“Well, it's not as good as your story,” Sam said, and they both laughed again. “Really, there's not much to tell. When I left for Stanford, there was some bad blood between me and my Dad. He wanted me to be a hunter, you know, and all I wanted to do was get the hell out. So I arrive at college all alone, and it's just … amazing. Everyone's experiencing freedom from their parents for the first time, everyone's breaking off whoever they were in high school and reinventing themselves, making friends, hooking up with whoever they want without having to answer to anyone. There's this incredible energy and newness that everyone's feeling at the same time, and you feel like you can be or do anything with your life.

“The very first week, I meet this girl from the next level down in the dorm. Junior, name was Alicia. And she was, like, _literally_ the smartest person I'd ever met. I mean, there were a ton of smart people running around campus, which was humbling, but Alicia had this Einstein-rocker-cool vibe thing going. And for whatever reason – _pity_ , maybe? Yeah, freshman pity – she sort of adopted me. I followed her and her friends around, and I think for about four days I declared my major to be the same as hers, before figuring out that _astronautics_ required a wee bit more math than places like Ogdenville High prepared me for.

“Anyway, maybe three weeks into the first semester, the two of us are sitting around her room drinking or something, and it comes up. And Alicia's like, 'No _way_ we can let you continue in this pathetic broken affection-deprived state.' Might have been the exact words. See, humbling. Then: 'So you wanna just do it right now?' And of course I'm lying there on the floor thinking, _holy shit this is college.”_

Claire shifted on top of his chest and chuckled. “So, did you go for it right then?”

“Sort of. It turned out she was really into this tantric sex touching thing, so it was naked making out for hours and hours while everybody tries not to come. Which was, again, incredible and mind-blowing. At about three am I'm finally reaching exhaustion, and freaking out a little that maybe I'm supposed to do something different next, and without saying a word she rolls on a condom and climbs up on top. Just like that, no longer a virgin. Not so earth-shattering as it seems, beforehand.”

“Yeah, I'm getting that,” Claire said. Indeed, she felt both energized and peaceful from the post-come buzz, but not really any different than before. “Did you stay together with her?”

“Nah. She let me hang around like a puppy dog for a little while, but eventually was like, 'Go, young padawan, make more friends.' And I did.” Sam cupped the side of her face and lifted his head enough to kiss her temple. “And so will you. Promise.”

Just then there was a tentative knock at the door. “Claire? Sam? I obtained the B Plan. Do you require comfort or assistance?”

And then behind Cas's voice, they could hear Dean hissing faintly in the background, _“Plan B_ , you idiot, and would you leave them in peace?”

“I don't hear any weeping, that must be a good sign,” Cas was still saying outside the door. “If this is Plan B, what was Plan A?”

“Don't touch anything in the library,” Claire muttered, and both she and Sam laughed again.

 


End file.
